


Legacy

by moon_moth



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Gen, green dad and monkey son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7583041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_moth/pseuds/moon_moth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Piccolo's training of Gohan during the Saiyan Saga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

He didn’t often show how pleased and proud he was of the child’s progress beyond a less peevish grunt and the occasional terse ‘well done,’ but there were times he was sure he’d been caught almost smiling. The boy had started out a coddled crybaby, with not even the slightest hint of an idea of the vast ocean that was his true potential. And it was he who had begun to unlock it.

_Do you see that, Son?_ he thought, staring up with crossed arms and a smug expression. _Are you looking down from Snake Way at the warrior I’ve made of your pampered child? You were a fool. If you had trained him you might still be alive now. This prodigy is going to decide the battle with the Saiyans. I know he is. And who is his teacher? Me. This victory is mine. He is **my** pupil. **I** trained him. **I** taught him. He is your offspring, but he wears my symbol on his back._

Piccolo looked back down at Gohan as he fired a Masenko with awesome energy, and for a moment, forgot all about the boy’s father. Forgot even about the battle they were preparing for. All he saw was his pupil, turning a mountain to rubble. He saw his legacy. And what Gohan saw, as he turned for Piccolo’s reaction, was a look of fierce pride on the odd, green face. A fanged grin. Not subtle in the slightest, but beaming with approval and satisfaction.

Of course, Piccolo caught himself and went back to a scowl, but it was too late. The boy was practically glowing.

“Don’t go getting cocky, brat,” he snarled and fired a blast of his own, knocking Gohan backwards.

It was moments like these that the boy truly resembled his father, for instead of whining about how the blow was unfair, or looking discouraged, he rose up with that same smirk- the one that could be seen on Goku’s face whenever he was challenged- and charged his teacher. Maybe, if it cut down on the complaining, letting the boy see a little approval wasn’t so bad; as they sparred, he noticed a marked improvement, even over just earlier today. _Fine, then. If it helps your confidence in battle, fine. You can’t leave all your power locked away until someone pushes your berserk button. You have to let it out. Use it. You could be stronger than all of us. You **can** be stronger than all of us. Damn it, you will be. I’ll make sure of it. Whatever I have to do to, I’ll do it, even if that means I’ve got to indulge you with some praise every so often. But make no mistake, boy, I’m not going to spoil you like your parents did._

With that, he let another smile slip onto his face.

“You can do better, Gohan. Let me have it!”

The kid let loose, and it seemed to both of them that more progress was made in that afternoon than in the past few days combined.

“You did well today,” he said as the sunset stretched their shadows across the plain. “Much better than yesterday. Which means I want to see an even bigger improvement tomorrow. Got it?”

He smiled as wide and innocently as only a child can.

“Uh huh! I’ll do a lot better tomorrow, Mister Piccolo! I promise!”

That promise was kept, and as days turned into weeks, he progressed so far that considering the coming battle no longer felt quite so overwhelmingly bleak. Even so, there was a long way to go yet. And he still had his forebodings about how it would turn out. For him, at least. He knew Kami felt it too- a grim premonition that this debacle with the two approaching Saiyan warriors would spell the end for both of them. Well, if it came to that, he was going to go down swinging, unlike that insufferably tranquil old man perched on his remote lookout, just accepting it all.

He looked at the child sleeping beside the fire and wondered just how much that sense of foreboding had to do with him taking on a pupil… then decided to forget about it. It was logical, anyway. Gohan’s participation gave this planet it’s best chance, and who else could give him the training he needed now that his father was gone? Clearly, he’d been the only one for the job. If you want something done right, do it yourself.

He turned his face away toward the horizon. The white cape just barely brushed the ground as he hovered there opposite the boy, and drifted off into deep meditation.

Hours went by undisturbed, when Piccolo’s concentration was suddenly destroyed. He’d gotten a flash of something from the kid- almost as if he was in danger. But when he lowered back down into normal consciousness and looked across the dying fire, Gohan was fine. Stirring in his sleep, with an admittedly anxious look on his face, but that was all. Some kind of nightmare. Piccolo didn’t know just how right he was until seconds later when he twitched, and twisted, and shot up with a scream.

The scream was his name.

“Relax,” he bellowed with a start, “I’m right here! You don’t have to yell.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Gohan was leaping up at him, looking terrified and about to cry. The child was knocked back instinctively before he made it to Piccolo’s lap.

“What are you doing?!”

“I had a bad dream,” he said in a small, quavery voice Piccolo hadn’t heard for some time now.

“Obviously. What do you want me to do about it? Sing you a lullaby? Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t,” he began, closer to tears but still holding them back.

“Tough.”

The little thing just sat there, beginning to snivel.

“Listen,” Piccolo snapped, “you know full well what the stakes are. If you’re too scared to handle a nightmare, then I’ve been wasting my time training you for battle! You’re going to have to face the greatest threat this planet has ever seen. If you can’t deal with that, then go home to your mother!”

“But- the dream wasn’t about me,” he mumbled.

There was a moment of silence and tense eye contact before Gohan blurted it all out helplessly.

“I dreamed that the bad men got you! Just like my daddy!”

It wasn’t so much that his premonition had been echoed in his student’s dream that caused visible shock to wash over Piccolo’s face, although that did unsettle him a bit. It was more the tears that didn’t fall until he asked,

“Why should _you_ care?”

It had sounded more annoyed than he’d intended, and he watched with a little spark of regret as the boy crumbled, sobbing. He sighed. Sometimes, he forgot how very young the kid actually was.

“Get up. Gohan, _get up_. We’ll be fine. The ‘bad men’ aren’t going to get us. That’s why we’re training, remember?”

He straightened at that, and fought a sob.

“Yeah, I remember.”

Then, he got to his feet, and looked up at the dimmed stars. Light was in the east. He wiped the tears away.

“It’s almost morning,” he observed in a stronger voice. “Can we start early?”

Reverting back to an unreadable expression, he regarded Gohan for a long moment before nodding.

“Fine. Get some breakfast first.”

The boy smiled and bounded off to gather fruit. Piccolo stared after him. _Stupid kid. I **am** one of the 'bad men.'_

He snorted and looked away. They trained hard for the rest of the day, from before the sun came up to after it went down. Piccolo was as merciless as ever, but Gohan kept coming at him, and that night, he slept like a baby.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr as part of a thirty day writing challenge i never finished


End file.
